It Must Be Fate
by spiritfire13
Summary: Jason Todd X OC story Amara's lived in Gotham her whole life, and she hates it. Fortunately her dream career of being a Nurse keeps her sane, even if she also has to work as a waitress to help pay the bills. Overall she lives a pretty normal life. But when one of the members of the infamous bat-clan falls on her fire escape one night, normal will be a thung of the past.
1. Part 1: Once Upon a Midnight

**_Why am I starting ANOTHER DC OC story? It's bad enough I'm stuck on The Winds Continue, and I had to take down Wings because I hadn't written anything in like, three months._** ** _Anyways...here we go: a Jason Todd X OC story. It will probably be lightly following/ placed in the Red Hood and the Outlaws Universe._** ** _As I do with all my OCs, I'll be posting a 'file' chapter right after publishing this one to give you a brief rundown of the character Amara Bianchi_**

It wasn't an overly awesome day to begin with. The guys at the diner were rude which wasn't really anything out of the ordinary, but when we were forced to throw them out because of a fight without getting the chance for them to pay...that was crappy.

Fights weren't uncommon in a diner in Gotham City. Hell, fights sure as hell weren't uncommon in Gotham City, end of story. But at least we usually got them to pay...And if a customer doesn't pay then the boss gets mad and if the boss gets mad he yells at the staff even though we didn't do shit.

And that was just the last few hours of my day. That wasn't even bringing into consideration the daily shit I have to go through at the hospital. Both litterally and metaphorically.

Oh how easy my job would be if I could tell people to shut the fuck up and sit their asses down...

Ya we get it, your arm's broken. But you're already in a sling and the guy in the next room over has three gunshot wounds and is going into shock! And in case you haven't noticed; the hospital is already short-staffed because we live in Gotham City where most of the population lives on the streets and can't afford to go to med school.

I mumble curses under my breath as I insert my key into the slot and twist. It was late, almost midnight, but I knew Carrie wasn't home. She'd left a note early this morning before my shift at he hospital telling me she was spending the night at her boyfriend's.

What was his name again? Kyle? Kieth? Kaden? Something starting with a K. Gotta give him credit though, not many decent guys around here would be willing to handle their long-term girlfriend being a stripper...

Pushing the heavy door open, I'm greeted by the pitch black apartment. I let the door shut and turn on the lights, my hand automatically knowing where the switch is after two years. When the lights flicker on, I'm happy to be home at last. Dropping my bags, my eyes spot a familiar black and white puffball and I smile even wider.

"Hey there Marilyn, what's up?" I ask, smiling. Kitty let's out a shy meow before patting closer, and I gently pick her up. The small monochrome tabby cat purrs as I stroke her ears and I giggle.

"Did mommy leave you all day? Was little Marilyn lonely? I'm sorry baby." I sooth and kiss the top of her head.

Was it weird to name your cat after a 50s sex icon? Maybe.

Was I a crazy cat lady? Maybe.

Did I care? Not at all.

With one last kiss to her head, I set Marilyn down before peeling off my black trenchcoat and set it on one of the hooks by the door along with my keys. Underneath the coat is my waitress uniform, the classic light blue dress with a collar and little puffed sleeves. It was the rules that we leave the aprons at the diner, kind of like he doctor's white coats at the hospital.

Since nobody else was in the apartment, I began to unbutton the dress as I pulled out my scrubs and left for my bedroom. After I threw my work clothes in my laundry hamper I grabbed one of my oversized sweaters and slipped it on over my underwear along with a pair of pajama shorts.

After changing, I looked at Marilyn and hummed in thought.

"I'm not really tired...are you? I know I'm starving for some food that isn't deep fried..." I mutter and I stroll over to the little kitchen. As I do so, I grab my cellphone and check it for any new messages. There's a couple new updates, a message from my boss at the dinner telling me that my paycheck was due tomorrow, and a voicemail from my parents.

I tap on the voicemail and put it on the counter while I hunt down a late dinner/ early breakfast.

"Hey honey, it's your parents. You know, the ones that love you very much but you never call anymore because you're so busy saving lives?" My mother's thick Italian accent plays through the phone and I roll my eyes.

"Hey Mom." I mutter.

"Give us a call sometime Amara! We miss you!" My father's equally thick accent says.

"Hello Dad." I reply.

"We just wanted to call and say we miss you...and thank you for the money you sent Wednesday...it really helped with the restaurant." Mom said.

"Some junky broke a window, but we got it fixed." Dad said.

"She didn't need to know that Nicholas!" Mom hissed and I let out a small giggle. "But seriously Tesoro, call us soon ya? We love you!"

"Yes, and we wish you luck. Go make the world a better place." Dad says and I smile wholeheartedly at my phone as the message ends.

"I love you guys too." I mutter, and I finish making my fruit salad.

It was probably too late to call them now, seeing as it was almost 12:30 in the morning. But I made a mental note to call them if I got a coffee break tomorrow.

Marilyn meowed loudly and I looked down at her. Her like green eyes shining wantingly at me, and the salad I was holding. My mind couldn't help but travel to a year ago, when I had found her on a sidewalk: soaked to the bone, starving, and curled up in a cardboard box that was falling apart. I had just gotten semi-financially stable and was looking for a roommate (enter Carrie) so I figured that it would do more good than harm to bring her home with me. The vet bills were hell at first, but once Marilyn got her shots and was properly fed: I never once regretted taking her home with me.

My train of thought was suddenly derailed when a loud bang was heard outside the apartment, followed by a series of equally loud crashes and thumps. I knew that sound all too well from living in Gotham City: that was the sound of a body falling onto metal. More specifically, the sound of a heavy-possibly unconscious-body falling onto my fire escape.


	2. File

Full name: Amara Francesca Bianchi

Age: 23

DOB: June 3, 1996

Ethnicity: Italian American

(Parents are Italian immigrants)

Citizenship: Yes

Criminal record: No

Occupation:

–Nurse at Gotham General Hospital

–Waitress at Zac's Diner

Immediate Family:

–Francesca Bianchi: Mother

–Nicholas Bianchi: Father

–Piero Bianchi: Older brother

–Gia Binchi: Little sister

–Maria Bianchi: Grandmother

Appearance:

Long, brown hair

Green eyes

Mocha skin

170cm (5'7'')

165 ibs

Butterfly tattoo on lower back

Cross tattoo on left shoulder blade

Education:

–Harvard University: med program

–Gotham nursing school

Notes:

–Older Brother had a criminal record and has done work for The Falcone Family

–Has done good work in Gotham General Hospital for almost a full year, shows no sign of threat

–Family owns and runs a small restaurant in one of the middle-class parts of Gotham, Amara helps financially


	3. Part 2: Under the Knife

For a moment, I weighed my thoughts. It could be a trap; something to lure people put of their homes so theyre easier to attack, or perhaps it was another villain brought to justice by the infamous Batman, or one of his 'Bat-clan' members...

But the nurse in me tossed all that to the wind. I grabbed a knife from my counter for good measure before running to the fire escape to see what, or who, had fallen.

The large window in my living room was what connected to the rusty fire escape. I usually kept it locked and my parents had paid for bullet-proof glass when I moved in (even if they couldn't really afford it, my Dad insisted. Ranting about how too many men and woman had died because bad people snuck into their houses via their fire escapes).

I crept over to tell window and peeked out, tensing my grip on the knife as I prepared for an attack. Instead of an attack however, I was met with the sight of a large, male body laying face first on my fire escape.

It was dark but with the light flooding in from my house, and the streetlight nearby I was able to see that he was wearing a leather jacket (that was in very bad condition) and armoured pants (in equally bad condition). His body was turned at a odd angle and just by looking at him I could see that his left shoulder was dislocated (probably from the fall), his right wrist was fractured (possibly from being kicked and stepped on), his left knee cap was dislocated as well and there was thick, red blood leaking onto the metal surface from somewhere on his torso, as well as his left shoulder.

I couldn't see his head on account of a thick, scarlett, full-faced helmet; which was still turned toward me. I could see that there was a long, thin fracture in the metal but not enough to actually break it.

I knew who he was; I've seen him on the news a couple times. The infamous Red Hood, the vigilante that seems close to Batman but isn't afraid to kill. He had a reputation for not caring who he killed either, as long as they were on the wrong side of the law. I've nursed tons of his victims back to health if he let them lived.

My co-workers and I weren't a fan of the Bat-clan to be honest; we were all under the mutual idea that Gotham had enough problems as it was. Of course I did appreciate that they saved lives, countless in fact-my cousin Marcus was once saved by Nightwing in a fire one time-and although they claim not to kill (except for the one that was bleeding out on my fire escape) they left people with serious trauma, and some people the 'help' end up not being able to walk or live normal lives for the rest of their days.

Do I think superheroes are a menace and deserve to be put down? No. But I do think they should put more consideration into what happens after they save people.

And that was one of the reasons why I ran to my closet, grabbed a spare tarp I had, and ran back to carry the vigilante into my house instead of calling an ambulance.

I examined his limbs first and confirmed that I was right about their injuries, as well as a small fracture on the left arm. My eyes traveled up to his helmet-covered head. He could have a concussion, or worse...but on the other hand if he were to wake up he would probably think I was a threat, which wouldn't be good at all. So instead, I grabbed a pillow and placed it under his head: estimating it would be good enough until he woke up and I could ask him to remove the helmet.

Time for my training to come in handy.

I ripped his jacket off of him, underneath was a black long sleeved shirt with a bulletproof vest under it. I ran to the kitchen and got the special aid kit from under the sink before running back to my 'patient'. Taking the medical scissors from the kit, I cut open the shirt before taking off the Kevlar underneath.

There were two bullet wounds (which was a little alarming because the vest should have deflected the projectiles), but thankfully the Kevlar had protected all of his major organs. Of course, they were still open wounds that were releasing large amounts of blood, so that had to be fixed before anything else.

I grabbed the anesthetic, tweezers, needle and medical thread, slid on some clean gloves, and began working on cleaning and sewing the wounds closed.

The first bullet wound was easy enough. The bullet came clean out and it's position made it easy to stop the bleeding before I stitched it up. The second however, was a little harder. When I pulled out the bullet, fresh blood began to spurt out even faster. I let out a string of curses as I placed my hands on the area of the wound, putting all the weight I could on the wound. The warm fluid flowing onto my rubber-covered-hands was gross, but I did my best to ignore it.

The patient always came first.

When the bleeding finally stopped I stitched up the wound. I let out a small sigh of relief and pulled off my gloves and threw them on a part of the tarp that wasn't occupied by the Red Hood. I placed two fingers on his pulse-spot and held my breath: pleading that he was okay on the inside. When my fingers were met with a strong, normal-paced, beat I let out yet another sigh.

I'd have him eat some sugar and drink water when he woke up. He didn't lose that much blood, so he's be okay as long as he ate and drank something when he woke up. It would be just like he was giving a blood donation.

I scanned his torso and scowled. Ribs were harder to test if they were fractured if I didn't have an X-ray machine and the patient wasn't conscious. I had no doubt that at least a few of them were broken, but I couldn't know for sure until the guy woke up.

My eyes traveled to his injured limbs and I took a deep breath as I pulled out some bandages and checked his joints to figure out if I could successfully relocate them.

 ** _I'm don't actually have any professional medical training, so keep in mind that everything in this chapter was written by a teenage girl with nothing but a First Aid Certificate and a history of being stitched up by actual doctors in actual hospitals._** ** _Please don't try any of this shit at home kids, and definitely don't let random vigilantes into your home._**


	4. Part 3: Talking with a Hero

It was two in the morning when the vigilante finally began to wake up, which was good, because I was actually beginning to doze off. He groaned slightly and begin to stir, causing me to jump up into a sitting position; wanting to make sure he didn't rip out his stitches. Thankfully he didn't, but when he suddenly jolted forward, I knew that he was fully awake.

"Calm down, or you'll rip out your stitches." I said, getting up and walking over to the vigilante. But I made sure to keep my distance so he didn't see me as a threat.

"Who...who are you? Where am I? What happened?" He asked. His voice was gruff, but also full of uncertainty, probably caused by the anesthetic.

"You're in the lower east side of Gotham, in my apartment. I'm a nurse at Gotham general hospital. You landed on my fire escape two hours ago, badly hurt and bleeding out from two bullet wounds your Kevlar vest failed to block. I stitched you up and tended to your broken limbs. I needed to explain the situation so he knew I wasn't the one that hurt him.

His hands flew to his head, touching the hard metal of his red helmet. "You kept my helmet on?" He asked. I simply shrugged and replied honestly. "I didn't want you to wake up and think you were in danger. That being said; I need to make sure you don't have a concussion and you need something to help your body recover from the large amount of blood you lost."

"I do feel dizzy...how do I know I can trust you?" He asked. I wasn't surprised at his question: he fought the worst this city had to offer, it wasn't a mystery as to why he was hesitant when he was me with good.

"If you couldn't trust me: you'd be dead by now." I shrugged. "Now please; take of your helmet off."

The man sighed and hesitated for a moment before raising his hands and unlatching his helmet. I helped him take it completely off carefully and, although he tried to bat my hands away, we managed to take it off. I set it to the side as I handed him a bowl of fruit and stood up to check his head for any bleeding. When none was found, I grabbed my small flashlight and moved back to facing him. His face was attractive, I'll give him that. Strong-jawed, glossy raven hair, angular features; but a small domino mask blocked me from seeing anything else other that the blue irises.

"Another mask? Are you 'heroes' that paranoid about your identity?" I asked. "Keep your eyes open please." I flashed the light into his eyes. His pupils dilated and I sighed in relief when I pulled the light away and the pupil reverted back to its original state.

"You'd be surprised." The man said, taking a bite of the fruit I had given him. "Why are you helping me? By the tone of your voice I'd guess you aren't for us superheroes."

"Most of you are...okay I suppose. You save lives, and I admire that as a nurse." I said, pulling my flashlight away. "However people still get injured in collateral damage. A friend of mine was paralyzed when Superman smashed through her work building fighting Lex Luther for, what? The thousandth time? And your personal methods are strictly against my morals." I moved down to his limbs as I examined his recovering bones.

The vigilante sighed and cursed under his breath. "Of course...you pedestrians and your 'collateral damage' and 'no killing'. I only kill people who deserve it. I've executed fucking psychopaths, serial killers, murderers, terrorists! And what do you all think? That I'm the menace!" He argued and I raised an eyebrow.

"So you're proving that killing is wrong...by killing?" I countered. I pressed down on one of his ribs and he flinched, signifying that it was broken.

"They murdered innocents! I killed monsters. What do you even know anyways?" He growled. "And damnit! That fucking hurts!"

I rolled my eyes. If he was going to argue, he'd end up leaving. I couldn't have that, he'd only end up killing himself. Time to switch the topic.

"What even happened to you? Who was the great 'Red Hood' fighting this time?" I asked, grabbing some tensor bandages out of the safety kit. "Also I'm going to sit you up, but don't move too much or you'll pull your stitches. Let me do it."

I placed my hands strategically on his torso before pulling his body up off the ground, just high enough to be able to wrap the bandages.

"You're pretty strong." He observed.

"When you're a woman living in the slums of Gotham City, you have to be." I explained. The vigilante remained silent for a moment as I began wrapping his ribs.

"Some of Black Mask's goons. I cornered them at the docks and I chased them here... didn't know they had a gun stache." The vigilante groaned.

"Black Mask...the crime lord? Wasn't he the guy you made your 'debut' with?" I asked, eyes darting to his face to make sure he wasn't in pain.

"You could say that." He said nonchalantly. "You ask a lot of questions."

"One of Gotham's most feared vigilantes falls onto my fire escape, half dead, in the middle of the night. I think I have the right to ask some questions, especially since I saved your ass."

"You didn't have to." He muttered, looking away stubbornly.

"I'm a nurse: I vowed to protect every life, no matter what." I said, lopping the last of the bandage around his good shoulder for security before pinning it closed. "And as much as I hate to admit it...but you 'bat-clan' people actually do an alright job protecting people."

"I thought you said you didn't like me." The guy said, smirking and I rolled my eyes.

"Killing's wrong: end of the damn story. But...I can respect the fact that you guys, especially Batman, do good work for this city." I explained. "And with that...you're all bandaged up."

Redhood moves his arms cautiously, testing the waters. "Thanks for this, I...guess I kind of owe you my life."

I shrugged. "Just be careful going back to your secret HQ and we'll call it even. I'm sure you have someone that can help you with the remainder of the healing process." I helped the guy up, making sure he was able to stand on his own. "And please don't get into any fights on the way."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were worried." He said, smirking as he slowly grabbed his helmet and began to put it back on.

"More like worried you'll ruin all my hard work." I said, smirking in return. To my surprise, the vigilante let's out something that almost sounds like a chuckle as he slowly walks back to my window. Before he stepped out back onto the fire escape, he turned back.

"I don't think I caught your name Ms. Nurse at Gotham General Hospital." He said and my smirk widened.

"Amara Bianchi." I explained, trusting him with my name for some reason.

"Amara...I hate to say it, but having someone with your skills could be pretty useful in my line of work..."

I immideatly knew what he was getting at.

"If you need medical attention, you know where I live." I shrugged.

Why I was promising to help a dangerous vigilante instead of telling him to just go to a hospital? I don't really know. But if my intuition was anything to go off of, I could tell my reply caused the man to smirk before he jumped onto my fire escape and into the dawn.


	5. Part 4: Strangers in the Diner

Needless to say I called in sick for my shift at the hospital. I was only able to get to bed by 4 in the morning and, although I'm not exactly a newbie to late nights: preforming intense operations in your living room and meeting one of the most feared vigilantes in Gotham can tire a girl out. So instead, I took advantage of the day off and slept in (something I'm never able to do, even on holidays) before waking up around noon and calling into the diner to see if I could pick up an extra couple of hours. Thankfully my boss, Junior, was happy to get my call since one of our newest recruits, Tyler, called in sick.

The diner's more relaxing to work at than the hospital anyways, even if the pay is nowhere near as good.

And so, with a quick shower and tossing on my uniform: I ran to the subway station to try to catch the 12:30 so I could make the lunch-rush.

When I get to the diner it only takes me a couple minutes to clock in, say hi to everyone, and throw on my apron before I grab my notepad and start on some tables, which were quickly filling up as people strolled in for their lunch.

Zac's diner was modeled to have an old-timey, vintage feel. With checked marble floor and 1960s decor including records hanging on the wall. There was also a jukebox that played old rock 'n roll if you payed it a quarter. The old energy was the reason the waitresses, like me, wore the dresses and aprons instead of the classic all black that some modern diners have as a uniform. The buying itself was in a pretty safe area, one of the safest in Gotham that wasn't super rich, probably because it was a hot spot for the Bat-clan, which drove the baddies away. That being said, no area has never been touched by Gotham's dark hand, and the fact that posters covered holes in the wall, and that some of the tiles were newer than the rest attested to that fact. Most of the customers were nice, at least when it isn't one of the late shifts when the goons and the drunks come out to play, but the staff was so much nicer.

"You're too good to me 'Mara." Johnny, a regular at the cafe, said. His early 40s face smiling politely as I poured him another cup of coffee, his blue eyes peaking out from under the brim of his red baseball cap. He may be a stereotypical construction-worker, but he was a sweetheart.

"Anytime Johnny." I smiled back as I continued to my next table, a mother with two kids (oh joy). The mother's face read panic as she attempted to make sure her youngest, a boy with fluffy blonde hair, didn't eat one of the paper sugar packets. "Coffee ma'am?"

"Oh God, yes please." The mother said, grabbing the mug in front of her and practically thrusting it in my face. I smiled gently as I took it and poured the black liquid before setting it back.

Since my coffee jug was almost empty, I walked back to the counter to refill. Waiting there was Penelope, one of the other waitresses. She was the cute little piece of sunshine that got all the men comin' round. Fresh outta high school, pretty face, model body, perky personality, and trying to get herself enough money to go to Broadway. For many of our patrons, she was a dream come true, well...minus the whole thing about her being a lesbian. I was jus grateful she didn't let all the attention and praise go to her head.

"You look beat 'Mara." Penelope said, grabbing a fresh pot of java and passing it to me. I decided to stand around and chat, just for a moment to give my legs a rest. "Don't tell me you picked up another shift last night after the hospital again."

I shrugged, giving the young girl a smile. "What can I say? I'm a workaholic." I joked.

"More like masochist. Most nurses never get any sleep cause of their nursing job, but you: you just had'ta get another one didn'tcha?" The blonde girl asked.

"Gotta pay the bills somehow." I smirked and put down the pot to tighten my ponytail and fix my bangs. As my back was turned I heard the chime that sounded when the door opened, and I assumed someone had just walked in. What I wasn't expecting was for Penelope's eyes to widen and a smirk to play onto her lips.

"Dear Lord, now that's a guy I wouldn't mind pretending to be straight for."

I hated it when she said things like that. But hey, when you come from a family that says that if you're gay, you should pretend to be straight: I suppose it comes with the package. Nevertheless, I was interested in what the fuss was about so I turned and was surprised to see a man with shiny black hair, tussled and wind-swept, blue eyes, and a strong body underneath a pair of jeans and a leather jacket. Strong features and a mysterious, brooding air made him even more enticing. Thankfully, he didn't notice Penelope and I watching as he strolled over and sat...right in my section.

Well there you go.

"Lucky bitch." Penelope muttered as I grabbed the pot of coffee.

"You have a girlfriend." I hissed as I glared at her over my shoulders before walking over to him. Honestly, I wasn't much of a flirt, nor did I usually partake in relationships. The odd one-night-stand was more my style; quick, manageable, and no-strings-attached. I didn't have time for a relationship, so a quick fuck was an easy way to care for my needs.

"Coffee?" I asked as I finally got to his table. The man looked up and immediately after seeing me, his eyes widened. I was about to feel flattered when I realized that his emotions read surprise, not awe. I rose an eyebrow, curious at the reaction and once he saw this, his straight demeanour returned.

"Um...yes, thank you." He said, his voice quiet and distant. I just shrugged it off and began pouring the beverage. "I hope you don't find this creepy..." He paused, trying to piece together his words. "But aren't you a nurse?"

This surprised me. My Gotham-raised mind automatically thought 'stalker', but for the sake of the not wanting to cause a scene and get fired: I tried to play it smooth and wait for him to explain himself.

"I'm not a stalker or anything...I just," he paused. "my...brother was in the hospital a while ago and you look familiar."

I relaxed a little bit. It wasn't the first time someone I met on nurse-hours had run into me in the diner. Gotham wasn't that big...and he did look familiar.

"Ya, this is more of a side-job." I said. "Something to keep me busy when I'm not on-call...who was your brother? I can't remember everyone that came through the doors...was he okay?"

"Ya." He said, smiling. "Thanks to you, you saved his life."

I smiled and made eye-contact with him again as the coffee was finally poured. "All in a day's work." I shrugged. "So what can I get ya?"

"Scrambled eggs with a side of bacon." He smirked, something that made the hormones in my head whirl around like a hurricane. "Can I get your name?"

"Amara." I smirked. "What about yours? Or should I just call you 'the tall, dark, and handsome stranger'?"

The man chuckled, yet another hormone-inducing experience. "Call me Jason."


	6. Update & Apology

Hey y'all! I wanna start off by apologising for the blatant inactivity on my account. I've been focusing on my actual writings (not fanfic, not meant for Wattpad) and my studies.

I have also been working on a Harry Potter OC story series, but I don't plan on putting it here untill I'm done the first novel as to get the story off on the right track. But that's not what I'm here to talk about.

As my main work, the Zephyr series, is on Hiatus until season 3 of YJ is complete I feel like I should be working on this series since I am still very much a fan of DC.

But that being said...I have to say that I'm not overly fond of how this story started off. I had a few ideas that got mixed together but shouldn't have, and this fic suffered.

So that's why I'm announcing that I will be re-publishing this story, new and better, by the end of the month starting with the first (if not first few) chapter(s). I'll leave this copy up until that happens, but then take it down and lay it to rest.


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